When Vanity Met Insanity
by Hearts of Eternity
Summary: While in Greece to stop the Decepticons, Sunstreaker stops to admire his reflection and ends up insulting the Greek god Narcissus. Cursed with irresistible beauty, Sunstreaker discovers that being irresistible isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
1. Chapter 1

Question: What do you get when you mix Greek mythology with giant alien robots? Answer: This story.

**When Vanity Met Insanity **

If there was one thing that could distract Sunstreaker from any task, it would be his own reflection.

To be perfectly reasonable, his reflection was an easily distracting image when such beauty was portrayed within. In Sunstreaker's own opinion, which he thought was an honest opinion (though many others would consider conceited), there was no rival to his appearance. He was gifted in nearly every area of aesthetic consideration. A flawless appearance enhanced by inherent grace and a distinctive poise that could not be matched. Golden paint which was pure perfection in polished form. A body that everyone wished they had.

Exquisiteness like the kind that Sunstreaker exuded on a daily basis was not something to be wasted.

He was the kind of creature to be admired for his immaculate handsomeness.

So, of course, when he caught sight of his own reflection, there was nothing more for him to do but to pursue such a paragon of loveliness.

With a quick look back to the battlefield that had erupted behind him, the golden mech slunk down the incline into a secluded old grove of olive trees.

The battle behind him was not necessarily a difficult one. The Decepticons had yet again concocted a ridiculous and sadly predictable plan to steal energy from a an experimental solar energy station located within the beautiful and ancient Mediterranean country of Greece. Starscream was at the head of the pack, which should have been a formidable challenge, but the pitch of his voice whenever he crowed about being shot simply made him annoying. The other Seekers involved proved to be formidable as well, but could be taken an smidgeon more seriously since they did not sound like a chipmunk thrown into a blender and set on high.

The team of Autobots that had been sent to stop the Decepticons had included Sunstreaker and his brother Sideswipe, Jazz, Prowl, and Ratchet. It seemed a little excessive to include so many good warriors (and one nasty medic) on a team bound for a routine rousting, but Sunstreaker had not complained at the time. There had been no point. And now he was grateful for the skill of the others, since it meant his talents would not be missed if he decided to opt out of fighting.

Fully immersed in the hidden grove, Sunstreaker found that the sounds of battle grew strangely distant. He paid little mind to the phenomenon, rationalizing it as the unusual acoustic features of the sunken grove, which was further augmented by the insulating effect of the thick canopy of wild olive trees. He had no explanation for the fact that there were olives on the trees when they were supposed to be out of season, or for the fact that the air smelled as sweet as honey with a lingering scent of something he could not quite name, but Sunstreaker did not seek to answer such mysteries. His attention was fully vested in the image that had first brought him into the grove: his reflection.

The reflective surface which was supplying him with such an enchanting view of himself was that of a still pool of water. Not a natural pool of water, as one might expect, but water contained within a low, carved fountain that looked to be ancient white stone. A statue stood in the corner of the fountain, carved of the same stone. The statue itself depicted a human who, by Sunstreaker's estimation, was an exceptionally attractive specimen of his species.

Sunstreaker chose not to notice how well kept the ancient relics in the grove were. Greece was littered with ancient ruins of human civilizations that were long passed away, but none appeared as excellently preserved as this one. If the golden warrior had given thought to the area, he might have noticed the eerie, almost _supernatural_, quality to how preserved the minor temple was. Even the hidden pillars that laid concealed in the surrounding trees, blanketed in thick covers of lush green ivy, stood straight and whole without evidence of thousands of years passing since they were erected. The most thought that Sunstreaker granted the condition of the olive grove was to suppose that there were humans about who indulged the space, keeping it tidy and preserved, so that they did not forget their silly pasts.

Kneeling at the edge of the long, low fountain, the Autobot peered in to admire the reflection that peered out. The actual fountain that supplied flowing water to the place was no longer working, leaving the pool as still and smooth as a sheet of glittering glass. Azure blue optics peered back at Sunstreaker, suited to an angular faceplate of perfect symmetry and balance. Emotive mouthplates curved up into a sensuous smile, a tempting gesture that normally would gain the attention of many amorous interested suitors. In the water laid lily pads and blossoming flowers of light pink and virgin white, floating around his reflection as if it were he who wore the flowers and was wreathed by the greenery. There was no denying what a handsome sight he made.

In the dappled light, Sunstreaker's golden armour was set to sparkle and shine, practically glowing in richness. Leaning closer to the water, he was able to admire the slender curve of his armoured shoulders, the way the metal was shaped around him for both beauty and protection. His chest as well, unmarred by the nicks, scares, and dirt that other Autobots were forced to wear, was a testament to good architecture; not overly bulky from his alt mode, he was slim and quick, narrowing down to his waist and hips and leading out to a pair of long, serpentine legs.

Enraptured by the beautiful creature revealed by his reflection, Sunstreaker basked by the side of the fountain until he lost track of time. Even when he swilled his dextrous fingers through the sparkling water, the handsomeness of his image did not diminish. As the clear waters danced, he could only attest to the new dimensions of beauty that were revealed through the movement.

For even the most dense of creatures, the unusual nature of the grove of olive trees would have been made obvious by now. Any normal person in possession of an average regard for their appearance would have been able to tear their attention away long enough to note that something was not quite right about this situation.

Sunstreaker's regard for his appearance, unfortunately, was so self-involved that it could be referred to as obsessively narcissistic in a severely clinical sense.

So involved was he in admiring his appearance that he did not notice when he was no longer alone.

The figure who appeared amidst the perfect greenery afforded by the olive trees was not one of Sunstreaker's Cybertronian brethren. This creature was much smaller, about the size of a tall human. As he stepped out of the deep shade into the gold-and-green dappled light of the center of the grove, the human revealed himself to be exceptionally beautiful. His skin was a flawless, warm shade of sun-kissed golden tan wrapped over a body which looked to have been shaped by a master's touch- broad shoulders, narrow waist, long limbs, sensual mouth, and the smooth glide of delicious muscle cut beneath the flesh. Dark hair like a raven's wing crowned his head, while eyes like dark liquid chocolate looked on with curious amusement. The fashion in which he was dressed was not of the current fashion of humans, but rather an older fashion of flowing cloth draped artistically around the body.

While this man did look human in many respects, it would have been a very foolish mistake to think him human in any way.

Those amused dark eyes cast over Sunstreaker's golden form with interest.

"You're not the usual sort of creature I find in my grove," he said.

Sunstreaker startled for a moment, reaching for his weapon, only to discover that his company was not the enemy. However, he did make the foolish mistake to dismiss the creature as human, and therefore no threat. Letting his hand drop back to the ground, he inclined his head to the human and pursed his mouthplates lightly.

"This is your clearing?" the Autobot asked in Greek, which was the language that the human had originally used. Which made sense, considering they were in Greece.

"Yes, it is," replied the human-looking creature. "What, pray tell, are you?"

"I am Cybertronian, an Autobot" replied Sunstreaker, a tad wary of the newcomer. He was further disconcerted by how the human showed no recognition whatsoever of either of the terms. He would have guessed that most humans would have been aware of the Cybertronians by now. Carefully, he asked, "You've never heard of my kind?"

That handsome head shook in the negative. "I can't say that I have. Current affairs have very little interest to me." This was followed by a shallow shrug.

For the first time since Sunstreaker entered the clearing, he finally found something that seemed odd. Odder than the use of a toga rather than the regular prescribed attire of humans- jeans and t-shirts. "You've really never heard of us?"

The stranger's brows arched. "No, sorry."

"Seriously? Not even the war between the Autobots and Decepticons? Giant robots trying to steal all your energy...?"

The human tilted his head, his dark hair falling artfully around his perfect face. "A war, you say? I wouldn't know anything of that. Nasty business, war is. I'm sure Ares would have a better idea of who you are."

"Right..." Sunstreaker pushed aside the niggling thought that the name 'Ares' was eerily familiar. He'd heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't be sure where. Perhaps he was famous? His gaze darted to the side for a moment, inspecting his reflection, admiring that even when he looked uncertain about something, he still looked handsome.

The unnamed stranger did not miss Sunstreaker's momentary distraction. A smile of inhuman delight and wicked promise stretched his lips. "I see what you are about now. You came to admire yourself, did you not?"

"I couldn't resist," Sunstreaker admitted, eyeing his company without guilt. What was there to be guilty of, other than admitting that seeing his own faceplate was a deliciously guilty pleasure of his?

"I know the feeling." Absently, the man adjusted the folds of his toga.

Sunstreaker returned his attention to the pool of water. "Then you know the burden of being so beautiful."

"Indeed, I do."

Sunstreaker traced his reflection with the tips of his claws, letting the surface of the water ripple gently. "I suppose you are luckier than I am, even if you're not as beautiful..."

A hard glint suddenly came into the human-looking creature's dark gaze. The amused smile that played at his lips turned forced. Obviously, he did not appreciate having his own considerable beauty slighted by an alien. "Do explain what you mean." The invitation held hidden danger in it, like cyanide hidden in wine. Not that Sunstreaker noticed. He was far more engrossed in the business of watching himself.

"At least you don't have to fight a war," Sunstreaker lamented absently. "In a war, I have to be a warrior first. Not that I don't enjoy a good fight, but it gets tiresome. It seems like my skills are the only things appreciated. You probably can't even comprehend the difficulty of maintaining such superior beauty when the enemy is constantly trying to shoot your faceplate off."

"You believe your beauty is under-appreciated, then?"

Sunstreaker considered the question, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do."

"I can fix that," offered the man, sensuous and dangerous at the same time. "I can make it so that none of your kind can miss your beauty. They will all see you as you see yourself."

"Wouldn't that be a dream come true," Sunstreaker sighed.

"Then let it be true," intoned the human. A soft, cool breeze swept through the olive trees, causing the leaves to shiver. Sunstreaker felt the air wrap around him, tingling down his armour, seeping beneath the metal and running up every neural wire. Suddenly perturbed by the feeling, the golden warrior pushed to his feet.

"I think I should go rejoin my group," he announced, making his way to the cover of the trees, hoping to exit the grove as quickly as possible. It wasn't often that a human was worth giving more thought than he would give roadkill, but this particular human was _odd_. More accurately, he now got the feeling that the human was disturbingly more than meets the eye.

"Wait, alien. I never caught your name," called the human, still watching Sunstreaker with glittering dark eyes. "I would like to know who I've had the pleasure of this exchange with."

The golden warrior hesitated for a moment, then found himself compelled to say, "Sunstreaker."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Sunstreaker." Those too tempting lips turned up in a captivating smile. "You may call me Narcissus."


	2. Chapter 2

I know what you're thinking: is he being dense on purpose, or does he come by it naturally? My answer: probably an unhealthy combination of both.

**When Vanity Met Insanity  
Chapter 2**

Sunstreaker crept out from the grove feeling oddly unsettled. He did not like the way that Narcissus had watched him as he escaped the grove. No, correction, he did not like the way Narcissus had watched him _at all_. He felt his insides churn while the human's words echoed in his head. Something about them had not been natural. Everything about his encountered with the human had been unnatural.

A part of Sunstreaker wanted to say that the creature he had supposed was human had not been as _human_ as he should have been. But _no_. He shook his head of the thought mentally admonishing himself for thinking it in the first place. If someone walked like a human, talked like a human, and looked like a human, chances were that they were just a smelly, fleshy human. Nothing more.

He cast a wary glance back to the shielded olive grove, as if to assure himself that he had not been followed, only to feel a cold jolt run down his spine. He had expected to see the lush greenery of the olive grove exactly the way he had left it, but that was not the case. In fact, there was no evidence of an olive grove at all. What was behind him now was a continuation of the flat plains around him- earthen ground splotched with greens, browns, and tans. There was not a tree in sight, aside from the occasional smoking wreck of burning charcoal laid to waste from the recent battle.

Sunstreaker stumbled back a step, and then another. He blinked hard, kept his optics shut, counted to tend, and then opened his optics again. Blinked again. And then rubbed his optics harshly with his knuckles. The grove still did not return.

Worried for his possibly failing sanity (because he was simply too handsome to be crazy), Sunstreaker scanned the area. He searched for the trees he knew had been there just moments before. He searched for the hidden ruins and the preserved fountain from which he had been able to admire himself extensively. The results of his scans proved fruitless. The only confirmation he received was that there was no evidence of a grove. No fertile ground. No water sources at all.

Because Sunstreaker was not prepared to admit to insanity, he rapidly sought a perfectly reasonanle explanation for this imperfectly unreasonable situation. Like... he got hit in the head during the fight. Yeah, hit in the head...by a rock, or a fist, or a blaster strike that had been at a high enough setting to knock him out but low enough to not leave a mark. Because the Decepticons _totally_ fought fair like that. However, at this point in time, Sunstreaker was not interested in bowing to the logic of the situation. He was far more interested in engrossing himself in a reasoning that would allow him to reason away his recent experience without labelling himself crazy.

So he totally chalked it all up to an elaborate hallucination brought on by severe head trauma.

Things like that happened all the time, right?

_Right? _

Forcing his thoughts away from that particular panic-inducing subject, Sunstreaker turned his attentions to the remains of the battlefield he found himself in. The ground was blackened in many areas, still smoking from several craters where stray plasma blasts had gouged the earth. The nearby solar power station was thankfully in one piece, aside from several large chunks of concrete that had been taken from the walls of its outer perimeter. Only a handful of solar panels had been knocked down, and while they were expensive to repair or replace, to have only a few down was better than to have the whole facility burn to the ground.

Sideswipe, Prowl, Jazz, and Ratchet were nowhere in sight.

Sunstreaker scanned the area for his fellow Autobots, discovering their position nearly a kilometre away. There were no Decepticon signatures with them; either the Decepticons were dead or they had managed to escape. Taking into account the Autobots' and Decepticons' track record on Earth, in which both sides had failed to score a definite fatality on the enemy, it was highly unlikely that that 'Cons were dead. Meaning that they had escaped yet again. Not such a big surprise, to be honest. Among all of the Decepticons, Starscream and his Seekers were a slippery bunch who were hard to pin down. Starscream in particular was as slick as oil, as clever as he was annoying.

The Autobot signatures Sunstreaker was picking up were stationary, and none of them appeared to be in distress, so he decided that it was best if he rejoined them as soon as possible. Taking to the uneven ground in his alt mode, he picked his way around the debris in order to find the cleanest route possible. He was careful not to touch anything that looked like it might leave a mark. While he was an excellent warrior second to none, that did not mean he could not take exemplary pride in his appearance, if that had not been made obvious by now.

The drive was a short one to where the four other Autobots rested. They were partially concealed by a ridge of natural stone that had been thrown up from the volatility of battle. Only their heads and shoulders could be seen in amongst the churned up dirt. They were made especially obvious as the afternoon sun beamed down on them, reflecting off their metallic armour and setting their bold paint shining.

Once close enough, Sunstreaker transformed, standing tall and proud. He refused to let it show that he was the least bit disturbed by recent events. He brushed himself free of dust particles, chest out, chin up. The sound of his transformation gained the attention of the squatting bots, and Sunstreaker felt their attention acutely. He was quite accustomed to others watching him- it was the only reasonable reaction when others were faced with beauty such as his own. But this staring felt... different. He didn't know how to describe it. However, he was determined not to let anything else bother him, so he ignored the strange quality of his comrades' regard. With grace and dignity, he approached their small hiding spot and looked down at the small group of four.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Ratchet drawled with a borderline sneer. It was the kind of greeting that Sunstreaker expected on a regular basis. That was the kind of love-hate relationship they had: they both hated each other and left the loving to other Autobots. However, the medic's usual scowl was not as potent as it normally was; it was not quite the look of disdain and vitriol Sunstreaker was used to. Ratchet's optics were not quite as harsh as they usually were.

_No_, Sunstreaker told himself. _You're imagining things_.

To dismiss any lingering awkwardness, the golden warrior tilted his olfactory sensor in the air and sniffed haughtily. "You're the ones who left me behind."

"You're the one who abandoned us in the middle of a fight," Sideswipe pointed out stubbornly, his mouthplates turned down.

"I can't help it if I was hit on the head and knocked unconscious," Sunstreaker countered.

"You were _what_?" Sideswipe exclaimed incredulously. It sounded like he didn't believe a word of it, but Sunstreaker chose to interpret the incredulity as horror that he had been assaulted in such a grievous fashion.

"That's news to me," Jazz snorted.

Sideswipe hopped to his feet spryly, circling his brother.

Sunstreaker watched the red mech's progress carefully. "What are you doing?"

"I don't see no mark," Sideswipe replied, poking the back of Sunstreaker's head. "If you were hit on the head, you'd have a mark." When he should have pulled his hand away, it stayed. Sunstreaker could feel his brother's palm against the metal, warmth radiating through it in waves. For the first time in his life, Sunstreaker did not like his brother's touch, even if it was in such an innocuous place. Quickly, he stepped away.

"Proper maintenance makes my armour extra resilient," Sunstreaker intoned, scraping by with the most reasonable explanation he could come up with. The alternative- accepting that the olive grove and the human within it had been more than just a hallucination- simply wasn't an option.

"And I can blow rainbow smoke out my exhaust pipe," Jazz laughed.

Prowl looked up from the data pad he was handling. He cast a quick look in Sunstreaker's direction, his optics flashing momentarily, and then he regarded Jazz with a simple look. "If you hooked up a release system with certain chemical compounds in it, you could, in theory, eject coloured smoke from your exhaust pipe in a similar manner to Smokescreen's smokescreens."

Jazz stared at the tacticians for a moment, and then frowned. "I hate it when you logic things into being reasonable."

"Logic is not a verb," the tactician pointed out before returning his attention to calculating the extent of the damages of their latest battle. Not only would he have to present the numbers to Optimus Prime the next time he saw the commander, but he also wanted the numbers handy if the humans tried to bill them for the damages and tried to double or triple the actual amount owed. There had been more than a few occasions when the Autobots had been charged for more than what was reasonable. Prowl sought to prevent such an instance occurring again.

Sunstreaker watched the tactician for a moment longer than what might have been considered polite. Prowl had never been much of an interest to him before; he was a boring mech of boring tastes and boring looks with an even more boring personality. He was not lovely in any way and had never shown any interest in Sunstreaker, so Sunstreaker had never had any reason to pay the second in command much mind. It was only when he was being punished for something he didn't do, generally dragged into the scenario by Sideswipe, that Prowl registered at all on Sunstreaker's radar, but in those instances Prowl was more of an annoyance.

In this instance, it was something about how completely _normal_ Prowl was compared to the other three that drew Sunstreaker's attention.

Prowl felt the attention as well. Acute as always, his gaze darted up. "Do you need something?"

"No."

"Then stop staring." As easy as that, Prowl returned to his data pad again.

Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe's hand on the back of his head again. He could feel those warm, familiar fingers moving against the metal, stroking it gently.

"You do take good care of your armour, don't you?" Sideswipe murmured absently.

"You know I do," Sunstreaker replied. They shared a room on the _Ark_. Sideswipe watched (and complained) nightly about Sunstreaker's ritualized maintenance of himself.

"Yeah, but I never noticed how shiny it was until now." The red mech leaned in a little too close.

Sunstreaker shuddered. He had never been one to reject admiring advances from others- other than to take delight in denying others and watching them falter in the aftermath- but he drew the line at certain affections when it came to his brother. Once again, he stepped away from Sideswipe.

Ratchet eased his back against the ridge of stone behind him, his sharp blue gaze gauging Sunstreaker carefully. "If what you say is true and you really were hit on the head-"

"-doubt that," Jazz said, poorly disguising the words behind a cough.

"-then I should take a look at you to make sure you're not anymore scrambled in your processor than you already are," the medic concluded, albeit with a dark look cast in Jazz's direction.

Glad for someone to believe his improbable story, Sunstreaker was uncharacteristically willing to oblige. He made a move to sit down, but then registered how truly dirty the ground was. Reluctant to sit on it directly, he opted for rousting one of the large, flat stones that had been churned up from the ground and brushed the moderately large stone free of debris. Satisfied that it was as clean as he could possibly make it, he set it down in front of Ratchet and perched upon it carefully.

Ratchet's cerulean gaze swept Sunstreaker critically, that curious glint in his optics never leaving. After appraising the golden warrior's frame for too long, the medic switched to the other three present. "I've already looked the three of you over and fixed you up the best I can. You can go now. Make sure there are no more Decepticons in the area."

Prowl looked up in annoyance. "It is unlikely that the Decepticons will return for a second attempt on the solar station's energy. Starscream and his trine suffered severe enough damage to require immediate treatment. They are not foolish enough to attack in their compromised conditions."

"That wouldn't stop them from summoning reinforcements, now would it?" Ratchet replied, narrowing his gaze and tilting his chin up. There was determination in his gaze, matched by challenge and outright intimidation.

Prowl met the medic's gaze for several moments, and then relented. "Very well, but we will not move out of communications range."

"Wait a second-," Jazz intoned.

"That's not fair-" Sideswipe exclaimed.

Prowl silenced them with a raised hand. "If Ratchet wants us to patrol the area for the sake of safety, then that is what we will do."

"Just go," Ratchet huffed, dismissing them with an impatient wave of his hand.

Sunstreaker watched as the trio of Autobots assumed their alt modes and revved their engines. Prowl drove away without hesitation, though no one could mistake the lingering air of annoyance that followed him. Jazz and Sideswipe took a little longer to leave. They were watching Sunstreaker as they had been before, but now that they were in alt mode, it was hard to tell exactly which parts of him they were looking at. Sunstreaker shifted, self-consciously brushing flecks of dust from his legs. Finally, the two Autobots left the area, leaving Sunstreaker alone with Ratchet.

"Finally," sighed the medic, getting to his knees and scooting closer to Sunstreaker's folded legs. "Now lets get a closer look at you."

Sunstreaker watched the medic's approach... and he found that he didn't like it. There was something predatory about the fluid movement. A serpentine grace that one would not expect from someone such as Ratchet. The glint in his optics became more pronounced, the cerulean of the light deepening to a smouldering sapphire. This was not an unfamiliar look to Sunstreaker. Now that they were alone and Ratchet was close enough that Sunstreaker could nearly see his [extremely good looking] reflection in the medic's white armour, the golden mech could easily see _lust_ brewing in the other bot's gaze. He was no stranger to being the object of others' lust. However, this was an entirely new look when put into context; Ratchet's range of expressions when dealing with the twins seemed to be limited to annoyance, irritation, exasperation, and pure rage. Lust had never been a contributing factor before.

At the first touch of the medic's hands on him, Sunstreaker found himself tensing, wanting to draw away. He suddenly wanted his brother, Prowl and Jazz to return so that he did not have to be alone.

"You seem nervous," Ratchet observed lowly.

"Why don't you just scan me?" Sunstreaker suggested, noting the hitch that had come into his voice.

"A waste of energy," Ratchet replied quietly, continuing his thorough exploration of Sunstreaker's foot and ankle, slowly making his way up his shin. His long, clever fingers left no spot untouched. He had the advantage of having exemplary knowledge of the inner workings of Sunstreaker's frame, having rebuilt it from scratch more than once. He knew every crevice; he knew where to touch, where each sensitive spot was. If there was one bot who intimately knew the weaknesses of every Autobot on the planet, it was Ratchet.

Sunstreaker cleared his vents. "I think I'd prefer-."

"Have I ever told you how beautiful your frame is?" Ratchet suddenly asked.

Stunned by the random compliment, it took a moment for Sunstreaker to process it. When he did, he couldn't help but... let his ego be stroked. He puffed up a little. "It is a beautiful frame, isn't it?"

"I can't believe I never noticed before," Ratchet said, sounding astonished that such a detail had escaped him for so long. His hands continued to move on their upward glide, circling Sunstreaker's knees before moving past them. His frame crept closer, sliding between Sunstreaker's legs.

"Sometimes it takes the slower bots a little while to finally see what's right in front of them," Sunstreaker replied easily as he leaned back, looking down at the length of his own frame as it shone in the sunlight. In his opinion, it was better late than never that Ratchet finally clued in to the perfection of the patient he was treating. He did not notice his own distraction until it was too late.

Ratchet's hands had travelled uncomfortably high.

"Ratchet?" Sunstreaker intoned uneasily, watching as those familiar hands glided along at a sensual pace.

"Hold still," ordered the medic in a tone that Sunstreaker had never heard before. It was a low, purring voice that held rich promise... Promise that the golden mech never wanted to see fulfilled in any way, shape, or form. When he tried to move away, Ratchet levered up, placing both his palms firmly to Sunstreaker's thighs. "I said _hold still._"

"What are you doing, Ratchet?" Sunstreaker asked, leaning away from the medic's advances. This was wrong. So wrong.

"I can't seem to help myself," murmured the medic, leaning closer as Sunstreaker leaned away. His hands clenched along Sunstreaker's thighs, dragging him closer so that their heat and magnetic fields intermingled together. "It's like I'm seeing the _real_ you for the first time."

Something about those words triggered a brief memory file...

The olive grove.

Narcissus.

"_...they will all see you as you see yourself..." _

"You're the most beautiful mech I've ever seen," Ratchet sighed, pressing closer, moving in a deliciously tempting way.

Sunstreaker was not to be seduced. Instead, he was rather horrified. His hands came up and shoved the medic away with as much force as he could possibly muster, throwing the mesmerized bot to the dirt violently. Free of the confining grip on his thighs, he shot to his feet and leaped away to more distance between himself and the medic. He could feel his spark racing in his sparkcase, burning like a red-hot brand as it beat a harsh tempo against his insides. He could hear his energon rushing inside his energon lines. His vents were heaving as if he had just run a marathon.

"This isn't you, Ratchet!" Sunstreaker exclaimed. "I'm the most handsome mech you've ever seen, yes, but you've never been interested. Think about it!"

For a second, it looked as if the medic was snapped from his daze. His frame went rigid, optics flashing bright. But then his gaze fell to Sunstreaker and resumed its glazed, hungry look.

"You're wrong, Sunny. I _want_ you."

Sunstreaker did not want to stick around to find out how badly the medic wanted him. Without looking back, he transformed and took off as fast as his wheels would carry him.

Given what he had just experienced, he was starting to suspect that there was something seriously _wrong _going on...with Ratchet.


	3. Chapter 3

Question: Is Denial just a river in Egypt? Answer: No, it also happens to be the state of mind Sunstreaker lives in.

**When Vanity Met Insanity  
Chapter 3**

Disturbed by Ratchet's behaviour, Sunstreaker drove as far and as fast as he could away from the medic. He did not care in which direction he went. He did not care if he was scaring the slag out of local wildlife as he tore across the landscape at top speed. However, he did happen to care that he was getting coated in dust and dirt, but he knew that as soon as he found a safe place to stop in, he'd be able to wipe himself down of the imperfections. A little discomfort now was worth his peace of mind later. Granted, while he would be able to wipe himself free of the grime, he doubted he's be able to wipe away his personal sense of violation. Nope, the image of Ratchet slowly sliding between his legs and leaning in would _never_ leave him.

Of course, he could understand Ratchet's sudden attraction. Although it was sudden and strong, who could blame a mech who had good taste... even if it was a delayed reaction? Sunstreaker was the most handsome bot that the medic saw on a day to day basis. Something like that was bound to accumulate, right? Like if a human was exposed to cigarette smoke long enough, they developed ill health effects like cancer. Being exposed to Sunstreaker over a long period of time slowly accumulated a latent sense of attraction until it was impossible to resist.

Perfectly _rational_ explanation.

The only problem was... it was Ratchet. _Ratchet!_ If Sunstreaker had been in bipedal mode, he might have gagged a little after shuddering in horror. As rational as he tried to be about the situation, he could not reconcile himself to the fact that it had been Ratchet coming on to him. Ratchet touching him. Ratchet purring in his audio. No matter how he considered the situation, it still left him disturbed. Ratchet, of all bots, was not the most attractive of the Autobots. His grouchy nature added to his unattractiveness. At the very least, if someone was going to come on to him, Sunstreaker deserved someone who was nearly as handsome as himself!

Just the thought of that medic sliding between his legs, touching him, pressing up against him...

Oh Primus, Sunstreaker was very close to figuring out how to gag in his alt mode.

Deciding to shake himself of such disturbing thoughts, he forced his mind to the task at hand. Now that he was heading away from the flat plains being used to collect solar energy, he was getting into rougher territory. Greece was a largely mountainous country, hosting some pretty tricky driving if one did not pay attention to the roads ahead. Narrow roads, steep inclines, and sharp turns were a driver's worst nightmare. Combined with the fact that Sunstreaker was _not_ on a defined road, but instead driving for his life across dirt, sand, and rock which was currently eroding his undercarriage, it was extremely tricky driving indeed.

Finding the entrance to a wide gorge, Sunstreaker gunned his engine and shot in to the narrow path. All around him, walls of pure, jagged rock soared so high that it appeared at if they would brush the clouds. Once he was fully ensconced in the rocky environment, confident that he was hidden from sight, Sunstreaker resumed his bipedal mode. With more than a little annoyance, he regarded the current state of his golden armour. In the haste of his escape, he had managed to sandblast most of his gloss off. His paint was dull. Along the metal panels that constituted his flanks in alt mode, dirt was caked there thickly, a disgusting layer of light and dark browns. How bothersome. Call it an obsessive-compulsive impulse, but the urge to clean the grime away nearly had him bowing to the pressure. But Sunstreaker was not a complete moron; he knew that he would need to find better cover before he fixed himself up.

Moving deeper into the rocky terrain on foot proved just as difficult as moving on wheels. With his wheels, the rubber gripped the ground better than poor traction his feet offered. Although, whereas he was not so flexible as a Lamborghini, being in bipedal mode offered him quick reaction time to twist, bend, and jerk as needed to, as well as the freedom to use his hands to correct himself in the event that he stumbled.

A wild mountain goat bleated at him angrily as he passed by. To voice his own foul mood, Sunstreaker hissed back. The mountain goat didn't appear to appreciate being hissed, so it put its head down to display its impressive rack of curled horns, and then charged. It was a tiny thing compared to Sunstreaker, and if the Autobot had been in the mood, he could have flicked the stupid animal out of the way. However, at that moment, Sunstreaker was still a little rattled from his experience with Ratchet, and out of the two options he had in his fight or flight response, _flight_ kicked in.

If any of the Autobots ever found out he ran away from an ornery goat, he'd never live it down.

Darting around a bend in the rock, Sunstreaker did not even have time to absorb his own embarrassment before a pair of hands grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall rock. Panic seared through him, thinking that Ratchet had finally caught up to him. His optics darted down, but he was not greeted with the sight of white and red. Instead, it was black and white. A glowing blue visor leaned in so close that it took up nearly everything Sunstreaker could see.

"J-Jazz," the golden bot gasped. "Thanks Primus, I thought you were Ratchet!"

The saboteur leaned back, frowning. "Now why would you think a thing like that?"

"Because... well, you're never going to believe this... okay, maybe you will, but Ratchet _has lost his mind!"_ Sunstreaker noted with a certain amount of trepidation that Jazz had yet to release his hold. Warm, strong hands kept him pinned to the solid wall of rock at his back.

Jazz tilted his head to the side. "You're right, I do believe that. Ratchet is one crazy fragger." He leaned a fraction closer, his right thigh sliding between Sunstreaker's legs. "Mind telling ol' Jazz what Ratchet might have been doing to make you think he's lost his mind?"

Sunstreaker sucked in a drag of air, feeling the length of Jazz's smooth thigh move against the inner sides of his legs. Unlike Ratchet, this was behaviour that Sunstreaker could come to expect from Jazz, who was notoriously active among the _Ark_ crew. Sunstreaker had even indulged in a few nights of play here and there with the saboteur, given that they were both extremely attractive and Jazz was an incredibly clever mech when it came to intimate play. However, the saboteur generally had a better sense of time and place when deciding to get frisky with someone.

Jazz's visor glinted, reflecting a similar light to what Sunstreaker had seen earlier. That hungry, lustful look.

"You seem a little distracted, Sunny," the saboteur purred lowly.

"Just thinking about something," Sunstreaker replied tightly, testing the hands that held him captive to the rock. The restraining grip reflexively tightened around his wrists. Not good.

"What was it you were thinking about? Me, I hope; all the naughty things I could do to you out here. I bet no one would even hear you scream," Jazz drawled, still moving closer. Not only was their hunger and lust in his gaze, but there was wicked intent glittering in his gaze as well. He was not third in command for nothing, after all. Jazz was an incredibly _dangerous_ mech who was used to getting his own way.

Sunstreaker tilted his head away, feeling- not for the first time today- that something terribly, seriously, inexplicably _wrong_ was going on. It wasn't just Ratchet who had lost his mind, it was Jazz, too. Perhaps their processors had been scrambled on the battlefield? Or was it some kind of virus that was affecting their judgement? A drug that had been slipped into their energon? An aphrodisiac that drew them to the most potently handsome creature available to satisfy their needs?

With one hard jerk, Sunstreaker released himself from Jazz's hold and stumbled to the side.

Jazz laughed, stalking after him. "You wanna play it that way, do you? Well, I'm up for it. I like it rough." He took a step forward, which Sunstreaker matched by taking a step back. The heat and hunger in the saboteur's gaze smouldered like hot coals. "I've always thought you were a handsome mech, Sunny. More beautiful than any Autobot I've ever known. I also thought you were conceited about it, but now I see you were just being honest. You're just so handsome, nothing else compares."

"Well, at least you're right about one thing," Sunstreaker replied unsteadily, even as he continued to back away.

"I know I'm right. Seeing you now, I know I've never seen anything like you before," Jazz purred, his hands reaching out to teasingly snatch at Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker scrambled away, but he was not being playful about his retreat. He was dead serious. As much as he appreciated having his unrivalled good looks verified, the circumstances in which the verification was taking place were questionable. He kept his back to the rock, stumbling sideways to move. Pebbles and sand swished and crunched around him. The jagged face of the rock scratched his back, taking flakes of paint off, but for once Sunstreaker was not focused on himself. He knew from experience that the moment he took his attention off Jazz, the other mech would strike with a vengeance. He didn't want to think of what would happen to him if Jazz managed to get him on his back.

Jazz feinted to the left, catching Sunstreaker when he tried to escape to the right. "Got'cha," he purred, pressing Sunstreaker fully into the rock wall. The heat that radiated off him was like the sun itself, burning straight through Sunstreaker's armour. No matter the struggle, Jazz held on, expertly immobilizing Sunstreaker until he was placed helplessly at his mercy.

"I knew you wanted me the moment you looked at me today," Jazz murmured, his voice taking on a feverish tone. "The way you watched while I drove away, I knew you wanted me to stay. You were practically _begging_ me."

Sunstreaker shook his head as best he could, optics flaring wide and bright. "No, no I wasn't. No begging involved here. You've been with me before, Jazz. I don't beg for anything."

"There's a first time for everything. I bet I could make you beg now," replied the saboteur, freeing one of his hands in order to trail it down Sunstreaker's frame, dipping it into every sensitive crevice he could find. Sunstreaker steeled himself against the sensations, his neural wires already sensitive from Ratchet's earlier... assault on his senses. Jazz was too sharp a bot to miss the shift in the golden mech's frame. He grinned wickedly. "See? You're mouthplates might say one thing, but your frame says another."

"No, trust me, my frame is not saying anything right now other than '_let me go right now!_'" Sunstreaker said quickly, his own voice hitching for a moment.

"If you didn't want this, you wouldn't have come here," Jazz replied, the fever pitch of his voice becoming more pronounced. "You wouldn't have come to _me_ if you didn't want me. Want _this_." He released an electromagnetic burst that cascaded through Sunstreaker's frame, causing him to arch back and buck involuntarily. "You want this. You want it as bad as I want you. And I'll have you, Sunny. You won't belong to anyone else but me from now on."

Sunstreaker sucked in a drag of air like a gasp, doubling his effort to free himself. He was all for consensual acts of interfacing, but this was going into an area he did _not_ want to visit. This wasn't even remotely consensual. "Jazz, I mean it, let me go! Let me go right now! I don't want this! Something is not right here! You're not yourself! Something's controlling you!"

"You're damn right something's controlling me," Jazz replied, his gaze raking over Sunstreaker's frame ravenously. "It's called _lust_."

That wandering free hand that had been playing so nicely all over Sunstreaker's frame now began a path to his interface panel. Sunstreaker, despite his struggles, could only stare in horror. So focused was both their attentions on what was happening, they failed to notice the appearance of a third party into the game. There was a flash of red at the top of the rocky wall above them, and then someone jumped off with a loud war cry.

"_What the pit-?"_ Jazz didn't even have time to look up before the weight of a bright red Lamborghini Autobot landed on top of him and threw him away.

Sunstreaker had never been so relieved in his life to see his brother.

Jazz got to his feet, murder written on his faceplate. He growled like a rabid animal. "You're interrupting something, Sideswipe."

"It's a good thing, too. Sunny didn't look like he was enjoying himself much," Sideswipe shot back, moving to shield his brother's frame with his own. He was dusty all over, as if he had been driving at top speed all over the place. Had he been searching for Sunstreaker? Had he known that he needed help?

"Get your optics checked, Lambo. He wanted it," Jazz spat. "He wants me." The volatility of the mech was quickly coming to the surface, his lust transformed into something uglier. _Rage_.

"If he wanted you, don't you think he'd have been a little more willing?" Sideswipe hissed, bracing himself for a fight.

Sunstreaker wanted to yell that someone finally understood informed consent around here, but kept silent in order to keep attention off him. For once.

Sideswipe's armour flashed like flames in the blazing light that beamed down into the rocky gorge-like space they were in. "I can't believe you'd think he'd want to be with someone like you. He's always used you in the past. You're not good looking enough to be with Sunny. He'd never want you that way, other than to scratch an itch."

_Wait...what? _

Sunstreaker took a step back, and then another. He was getting that Really Bad Feeling again.

Sideswipe shot a searing look back at Sunstreaker. In his optics, something hot and hungry burned there; it was a look that one brother should never look at another brother with. It was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. Sideswipe tore his gaze away, facing Jazz once more. "The only bot good enough to be with Sunstreaker is _Me_."

Like a catalyst setting off a violent explosion, the two bots launched at each other. Theor clash was deafeningly loud. Metal on metal, amplified by the rock walls around them; the echos rattled in every direction, intensifying the sounds of battle. The two bots hit the ground in a writhing heap of flying kicks and punches. They looked like they were willing to fight to the death over this.

As much as anyone would be flattered that two bots were fighting over them, Sunstreaker knew this was not the time to bask in such violent enthusiasm. He had a feeling that whoever the winner of this match was going to be, he was not going to like it. He was going to like it even less when they tried to claim their prize.

For the sake of his own life and sanity, Sunstreaker turned tail and ran as fast as he could. Thankfully, Jazz and Sideswipe were so engrossed in their grappling match that they didn't notice his escape.

Whatever had infected Ratchet was now festering dangerously in Jazz and Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker could only count himself lucky that it was everyone else who had the problem and there was nothing wrong with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Question: Are gods allowed to be assholes? Answer: Yes. Yes, they are.

**When Vanity Met Insanity  
Chapter 4**

Sunstreaker had never been so glad to see the end of a day before. Above the outline of the soaring rock walls around him, he watched as the sky bled into yellows, reds, and oranges. He felt the last rays of warmth from the setting sun hit him, fusing his armour with fading warmth. It was peaceful in his immediate space. Squinting ahead of him, he saw nothing amiss. Checking behind him, he found the same innocuous vision. Just to be sure he was alone, he scanned the near vicinity for spark signatures and found none.

"_Thank you,"_ Sunstreaker sighed, though he wasn't sure who he was thanking at the moment. It was one of the few times in his life when he was grateful to be alone. He was content not to be the center of attention. After all the unexplained craziness he had experienced earlier with his Autobot brethren, he was not willing to go a round three or four with any of them. Primus forbid if he ever failed to get away from them.

A large outcropping of rock caught his attention, looking pristine enough to act as a seat for him. He perched upon it carefully, mindful not to scratch his paint off in the act. From subspace, he withdrew one of his many polishing clothes. There were no words to describe the relief he felt to have a polishing cloth in his hand, knowing that he would be able to give in to his need to clean himself. And it was a _need_. His sanity practically hinged on maintaining his good looks. The longer the dirt stayed on him, the stronger the urge screamed at him to wash it off. Now that he had the opportunity, he cleaned himself with a vengeance.

He wanted the dirt off him...

He wanted Ratchet off him...

Jazz, too.

And definitely Sideswipe.

No matter the wayward fantasies of some of the Autobots, the twins were not normally into incest and Sunstreaker was not about to change that.

In his quest to rid himself of all that was disturbing, Sunstreaker caught sight of his reflection in the shiny armour of his forearm. He inspected his frowning faceplate, not liking the expression. Frowning was bad for the complexion. He tried to correct the expression, but couldn't summon the energy to do so. He worried for Sideswipe, hopping he wasn't hurt. Sure, Sideswipe had been fixing to commit some very serious acts of incest if he had won the match with Jazz, but he was still Sunstreaker's brother. They were still family. Plus, Sideswipe wasn't in his right mind right now.

No one was in their right mind.

Everyone was suffering from a mysterious malfunction driven by an insidious virus.

Yep, virus.

Tearing himself away from his reflection, a very painful thing to do, Sunstreaker cast his gaze to the darkened sky. Velvet indigo hung like a blanket above him, encrusted with the twinkling diamonds of stars. He gained a modicum of peace from the night sky. It was one of the few stunning views Earth offered that was batter than Cybertron; Cybertron's entire surface had been too bright with light pollution to offer much of a view of the stars. Earth had places that were remote enough that the stars were still untouched by urbanity.

_Sideswipe is fine_, Sunstreaker told himself. His twin was an excellent fighter and had a talent for getting himself out of tricky situations. Jazz was probably fine as well. He was too smart and too devious to let Sideswipe take him down.

...which meant they were probably out there, pissed off and horny, hunting him down...

Suddenly, Sunstreaker didn't feel so good about sitting in one place. He moved to stand up, only to look down at his legs and grimace. His feet and shins were in horrible condition. Being closest to the ground, they had managed to accumulate the most grime. Making the hard decision, Sunstreaker resolved to keep moving- as soon as he finished cleaning himself up.

Not long after he resumed the dictates of his obsessive-compulsive disorder, Sunstreaker began to notice that things around him were starting to turn odd.

Well, _odder_ than everything else that had happened to him so far.

At first, the happenings were so subtle that Sunstreaker could easily dismiss them. Within the last few hours, he had become a master at dismissing the most glaringly obvious faults in logic and reality. When the night settled in fully but the temperature in the gorge did not go down, Sunstreaker rationalized the stable temperature as lingering heat collected by the rocks during the day now being radiated at night. It was a pleasant temperature- not too hot, not too cold.

Soon after, Sunstreaker began to notice a new colour in his surroundings. The colour green. The reason he noticed it was because he was not partial to the colour green. Even though green was a marvellous colour to stand next to in order to enhance the golden hue of his own paint, green on Earth usually meant plant life, and Sunstreaker was not a fan of that slag. He wasn't a big fan of organic slag in general. And, to be honest, he wasn't even a big fan of Hound and his green armour; the mech was weird enough without adding the colour green into the mix. And don't even get him started on Brawn, who deserved to be punted across a football field for being such an annoying, grumpy glitch.

Green crept into his peripheral vision slowly. First a sprig of it, and then two. Sunstreaker looked up, narrowing his gaze suspiciously on the small grouping of innocent looking vines growing out of a crack in the rock wall. When the vines did not move, acting as innocently as inanimate vines usually did, he looked away. The moment he looked back, he was surprised to find that the vines looked several feet longer, crawling closer. Quickly, Sunstreaker chalked it up to a trick of the moonlight and shadows.

As a soft wind blew through the gorge, whistling off the high rock walls, the sound of music carried on the breeze. It was merry music, if Sunstreaker heard it right, but it was distant sound. Flutes and perhaps an accompanying lyre. Even though there were no human settlements around for miles, Sunstreaker was content to say that the music was coming from a town or village upwind. With fins like his on the side of his head, it was easy to think that they could catch sound waves and amply them so that he could hear even the faintest of sounds.

See? He was getting pretty good at dismissing things.

A tapping came on the side of his foot, catching his attention. He looked down without thinking about it, but froze when he found nothing there except a knot of rich green vines that had not been there several seconds before. Sunstreaker stared for several minutes, daring the inanimate organic plant to move. Nothing moved, not even a little twitch. Sunstreaker sighed, chastising himself for his silliness. After so much weirdness during the day, he was becoming paranoid. He looked away again, only to feel his foot being tugged this time. His gaze shot down as fast as lightning, trying to catch the culprit in the act. He was too slow to catch anything, but gaped at what he saw nonetheless.

The vines were now wrapped around his foot.

In the span of time it took for him to blink, his entire surroundings shifted.

As he looked about himself now, the whole gorge was covered in green life. Vines, trees, flowering plants, hanging moss, accompanied by the merry gurgling of an active stream. It no longer looked like a mountain gorge at all. Instead, it was a subtropical paradise of perfect wilderness; tame and untouched at the same time. The trees grew in such a way that they formed a naturally manicured canopy, allowing in enough moonlight to dapple the ground in dancing patterns. Fireflies blinked from the leaves of trees, shining so brightly that they cast their light on the surroundings, giving the enclosed clearing a dreamlike atmosphere.

The music was distinctly louder.

"Hallucinating," Sunstreaker murmured to himself. "I am _so_ hallucinating." He closed his optics tight, slapping his palms over his face, scrubbing the metal relentlessly. He would not go through the same strangeness he had suffered during his first hallucination. When he was sure he rid himself of the mirage, he peeled his hands away and cracked open an optic.

In amongst the greenery that had the audacity to stay exactly where it had been several seconds before, there was now an assortment of carved stone decorations. Elaborate benches with elegant scroll work along the sides lined the babbling shore of the stream and sat in the seductive shade of trees bowing under the weight of their lush leaves. Pillars similar to the ones Sunstreaker had seen in the olive grove that _had been a figment of his imagine _now dotted this new illusion; some short, some tall, some skinny, some thick enough to place golden decanters atop of. Richly embroidered blankets of satin and silk laid in the long grass, looking plush and inviting.

He could hear the music of the flutes and lyre as if it were playing just beyond his sight.

Still desperately clinging to his sweet, _sweet_ denial, Sunstreaker squeezed his optics shut once more and prayed that the insanity would end. Whoever he prayed to must not have been listening, because when he opened his optics again, the situation was much, _much_ worse.

The music that had been haunting on the wind without a source was now giving body in the form of a small quartet performing on a pebbled patch of ground along the shore of stream. The three figures playing pan flutes were an odd mixture of human and animal. Their upper halves were that of naked men, while their lower halves were covered in thick brown fur and ended in a pair of cloven black hooves. From their heads were stubby horns, while their eyes were golden with horizontal pupils- like a goat's. They jigged in time to their music, their cloven hooves clattering on the pebbles. Next to them was a male youth standing completely naked as he played a golden lyre.

In the light of the too-bright fireflies, dozens of bodies now populated the impossible clearing. Small groups reclined gracefully on the assortment of blankets as they sipped blood red wine from golden goblets. Shaded bodied dappled by moonlight moved like shadows through the trees. Eyes glittered. Lips curved. Secrets whispered. Power hung in the air as a tangible object. These humans were dressed as Narcissus had been, in the draped fashions of flowing togas and dripping with the glint of golds and silvers.

"Finally decided to join our party, did you?" asked a dreadfully familiar voice.

Sunstreaker went rigid, his insides turning to ice. He could barely force his head to turn, doing so in a jerky fashion until he came faceplate-to-face with a human he was all too familiar with, and had been hoping never to hallucinate again. Much to his surprise, Narcissus was able to look him in the optic with ease. A quick glance around found Sunstreaker stunned as he realized the entire bower was to his size, as were the denizens populating it. Had he suddenly shrunk or were these people inexplicably his size?

Narcissus arched a perfect dark brow. "Well, have you no answer?"

Sunstreaker opened his mouthplates, only to have a slightly hysterical squeaking noise come out.

Several lounging humans looked over and laughed quietly. Their regard was almost cruel, with eyes full of mirthless amusement. It grated against Sunstreaker's deepest principles to be regarded in such a low manner. He was the Cybertronian here; he was supposed to be the superior organism. As flawless as the flesh of the creatures around him was, they did not compare to his golden, metallic perfection. They were the inferior carbon-based lifeforms. If anything, they needed reminding of who was the more beautiful of the species.

Sunstreaker tilted his chin up, staring down his olfactory sensor haughtily. "It's never a party until I arrive."

"Well said!" crowed a handsome male, applauding.

"Hush, Dionysus," a female shushed. She did not look human in the least; instead, she was comprised entirely of cherry blossom petals arranged in the shape of a woman.

Narcissus's dark eyes glittered as they watched Sunstreaker carefully, as if he could see right past the armour into the thought processes that were happening in the bot's head. He reached out with a tanned hand, moving for Sunstreaker's faceplate. Sunstreaker automatically moved away, disliking the idea of anyone touching him, especially a human- even an imaginary human- for fear of grease or oil coming off on him. A mocking smile turned Narcissus's lips up as his palm cupped the side of Sunstreaker's faceplate.

"It occurs to me that you have no idea who you are dealing with, Autobot Sunstreaker of Cybertron," said the human.

"I'm hallucinating," Sunstreaker intoned firmly.

There came laughter again, crueler than before. It was the sound of tinkling bells mixed with the shattering of glass; beautiful and entrancing at the same time it was horrible and repulsing.

"He knows not what we are," laughed a sprite who danced along the shore of the stream.

"He knows not of even the curse that lays upon him," an armoured male who looked ready for war chuckled deeply.

Narcissus turned his gaze to his fellow gods, demigods, and enchanted company. "He is an exceptionally dense creature of considerable beauty and even greater conceit. He knows not that everything he sees is real."

Sunstreaker bristled. "This _can't_ be real."

"Why not?" Narcissus asked, both brows now arched expectantly.

"People with goat feet and females made of flower petals don't exist; curses aren't real; everything here is impossible," Sunstreaker said, even as his hopes grew dimmer with every passing moment. The longer he remained in the company of such creatures, the less that he was able to dismiss the preternatural nature of what was happening around him. Narcissus's hand on his faceplate had been too real. The sights, smells, and sounds of the bower were a little too realistic to be figments of his imagination.

"There is a flaw in your logic," Narcissus said with a definite relish. "You see, people with goat feet and females made of petals are standing right in front of you. They must exist if they are there. If curses weren't real, you wouldn't have had the day you just had; your comrades certainly wouldn't have been acting as they did. If everything around you were impossible, it would not exist. As you can see, it _does_ exist, so therefore it is not impossible- at least not for gods." A goblet of wine suddenly appeared in the human's- er, _god's _hand, and he took a savouring sip of it.

Sunstreaker's mind whirled in a panic. He was not a religious bot, by far. He did not believe in Primus, though he liked to liberally use his name in vain. It was a hobby of his. He was even less informed about Earth religions and Earth gods. The only thing he thought he knew about them was that they didn't exist, and that belief just got the slag blown out of it.

Stunned blue optics turned warily on Narcissus. "You're a... a god?"

"Yes," Narcissus replied.

"You cursed me?"

The goblet of wine disappeared from the god's hand so that he could inspect his perfectly manicured fingernails. "Technically, I gave you what you wanted. It only turned into a curse when you realized what you wanted was more than what you can handle." He shook out his hand, casting Sunstreaker a dangerous smile. "You really should be more careful who you insult."

Sunstreaker reared back. "How was I supposed to know you were a _god?"_

Narcissus shrugged indifferently. "That's not my problem. I knew I was a god when I was talking to you. If you didn't, that's your fault."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not from this planet," Sunstreaker exclaimed, no longer caring that he had a crowd watching him. "Take the curse off me!"

"I'm sorry but was that a heart-felt apology for your thoughtless insult with regards to my beauty?" Narcissus drawled.

"Do you have any idea what your curse has been doing to the bots around me? They've been coming after me like crazed lunatics. My brother, _my own slagging brother, _was lusting after me!" Sunstreaker cried, gesturing violently.

This announcement beckoned the greatest bout of laughter yet, inspiring Narcissus to laugh along with his peers. It was a while before the godly crowd was able to compose themselves. They wiped their eyes and tried to muffle the dregs of chuckling behind their hands. Narcissus did not bother to hide his mirth from his glinting dark eyes.

"I only made it so your comrades regarded you with the same reverence that you placed in yourself," said the god of narcissism. "If your brother and others were overcome with lust for you, it was because you yourself find attraction to your reflection. They become obsessed because you are obsessed. If they are delusional, they are only infected with your own delusions." A predatory smile took hold of Narcissus's face. "I take delight in knowing I have brought such distress to your life after you have so gravely slighted me."

Sunstreaker bristled, but had no other choice than to spit, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for slighting you." He failed to mention what he was sorry for, because deep inside, he was not sorry at all. He would not apologize for the truth. He was, indeed, a greater beauty than Narcissus; indeed, his ego was actually inflated a little by knowing that he outranks a god in appearances.

Narcissus laughed. "You are not at all sorry for anything."

"Just take this curse off me, will you?" Sunstreaker grieved, reaching the breaking point of his patience.

"Even if I was inclined to remove the curse, I don't know if I could," Narcissus replied with a light shrug, clearly enjoying himself.

"W-what?" The bottom of Sunstreaker's tanks felt like they dropped out.

"If you had paid any attention to Greek myth, you would know us gods are well versed in handing out the curses," Narcissus pointed out. "We're simply not so kind in taking them back."

"You mean I might be _stuck_ this way for the rest of my life?" Sunstreaker croaked.

"Looks like it," Narcissus replied merrily.

"_Oh Primus."_

"I don't think your god is going to help you," the god intoned unhelpfully.

Sunstreaker sucked in a sharp drag of air, and then did the only thing he could do; it was the same thing he had been doing all day. He turned tail and ran out of the revelry. He ran until the trees and vines turned back to stone. He ran from the sound of laughter and music, running until the scent of greenery and wine drained from the air. His legs carried him far from the enchanted place, guided by instinct and fear until he found a darkened cave to dive into.

Huddled to a wall with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins, Sunstreaker was now sure there was something wrong with him. The worst part about it was there was no way to fix it.

To make matters worse, someone suddenly coughed in the cave. Sunstreaker went taught, his head snapping around. There, in the back of the cave, three pairs of hungry Seeker optics watched him.


	5. Chapter 5

Question: What's worse than a horny Seeker psychotically intent on molesting you? Answer: THREE horny Seekers psychotically intent on molesting you.

**Chapter 5**

Starscream's red gaze slowly perused Sunstreaker's frame before sliding to the side to regard his fellow Seekers. His mouthplates turned up in a devious smile. "You see what I see?"

"I see a pretty little Autobot all by his lonesome," Skywarp drawled. His expression was lecherous, optics doing more than just looking Sunstreaker up and down. He was already imaging all the different ways he could violently take the golden bot.

"Think we could take him?" Thundercracker rumbled.

"I wouldn't want to waste the opportunity," Starscream purred, easing forward with serpentine grace.

A full-body shudder ran through Sunstreaker. He stumbled back, searching for even ground to transform on. The only setback to being a Lamborghini was that off-roading was a little hard on his low-slung undercarriage. Even when running for his life, he couldn't stop thinking about maintaining his pristine appearance.

A loud crack split the air. Skywarp was gone from spot at the far end of the cave, reappearing directly behind Sunstreaker. The Seeker's frame was hot as he reached around to grab Sunstreaker tight and thrust him flush against black and purple armour.

"Aww, don't be going so soon," he murmured deviously, moving suggestively against Sunstreaker's back. "We haven't looked our fill yet."

"You'll just have to do with what you got." Sunstreaker rammed his elbow into the Seeker's abdomen, freeing himself from being molested. He skidding a couple metres down the steep incline in front of the cave. "Just let me leave and we won't have a problem."

"If you leave, there _will_ be a problem," Skywarp growled, clutching his dented middle.

Sunstreaker really didn't want to stick around to find out what problem that might be.

Thundercracker and Starscream came out into the moonlight, circling around Sunstreaker to cut off a proper way of escape. All three members of the trine sported marks of battle from that morning. Starscream's chest was scratched around his cockpit, while Thundercracker was gouged through his wings. Skywarp, on top of the damage he sported thanks to Sunstreaker's elbow, had chemical burns that had seared his paint away- most likely left behind from Prowl's acid pellets.

What Sunstreaker wouldn't give to have a handful of those pellets.

Suddenly, a pair of hot, strong hands hand him around the upper arms. Shades of blue consumed his vision. He felt himself propelled backwards, up the incline until his back hit the rough wall of the cave. The hands on him did not leave, hot and tight as they held on to him. Thundrecracker loomed in front of him, a deadly smile curving his handsome mouthplates.

"Ever been with three bots at once?" he asked hotly.

"Get the frag off me!" Sunstreaker demanded, jerking against the restraining hands that held him.

"I'll take that as a _no_," said the blue flier, leaning in closer to trail his mouthplates up Sunstreaker's neck. "It's an experience you'll never forget."

"I'm pretty sure I won't want to remember," Sunstreaker spat. Hell, there was not one thing about this blasted day he wanted to remember.

"Awww, see, that almost hurt my feelings," Thundercracker teased. He was, by far, the most handsome of his trine, even with his battle-scarred frame. If this were another time, another place, they weren't on different sides of the war, and if a little something called a curse didn't happen to be involved, Sunstreaker might have considered having a one night stand with the flier. However, considering current circumstances...

"Look, I have standards, and you don't meet them," Sunstreaker said, bringing his leg up to smash his foot into the Seeker's upper thigh, forcing him away. "Decepticon scum isn't my type."

"Bet you'll make an exception when we're done with you," Starscream intoned, quick like a snake to grab Sunstreaker's raised leg. He bent it out, slipping into the space between. Their pelvises met, grinding against each other. "One Seeker can be more than some can handle. Three will blow your mind."

Off balance, Sunstreaker reeled backward. He tried twisting, bucking, but quickly decided better of the option when it only brought him into lewd contact with Starscream. His leg was firmly hooked around the Seeker's hips, locked there by a firm, clawed grip. In a desperate move, he lashed out with his arms, only to be jerked to a halt when two pairs of strong arms took hold of his arms. Thundercracker on the left and Skywarp on the right, pressing him backwards until he was splayed against the wall.

"You look so nice flat on your back," Skywarp purred, tracing the armour of Sunstreaker's arm with one hand.

"He'll look even prettier screaming our names," Starscream said lowly, moving suggestively against Sunstreaker.

"Wait! Wait a minute!" Sunstreaker panted, still struggling valiantly. "There's- uh, not enough of me to go around. I, um, can't satisfy three mechs at once. One at a time. I can do one at a time!" He nearly purged as the words passed his mouthplates, but he was willing to spit any lie he had to in order to give himself a chance to escape.

"You think we're stupid?" Starscream laughed, hitching Sunstreaker's leg higher. "We're not about to let you out of our sight."

Sunstreaker's mind reeled, scrambling for some sort of ploy. "Don't you think one of you deserves me more? I'm a real prize, you know that? Someone should deserve to have me all to themselves."

His spark skipped when the trio paused, their smouldering red optics flashing. Slowly, they glanced at each other, as if sizing the others up. _Yes! _This was the chance he was hoping for! He could set them against each other, and while they were busy fighting each other for the chance to molest him, he could get away! But then his spark sank like a rock in his sparkcase when the three jets started laughing.

"Nice try, Autobot," Starscream drawled.

Thundercracker leaned in, his mouthplates only a hot caress away from Sunstreaker's audio. "The thing about Seeker trines is... we share _everything_."

Sunstreaker snapped at him like an animal, panic starting to set in. As much as he could boast of his considerable skill on the battlefield, he didn't have the strength to take out three Seekers by himself, especially when they already had him compromised. And if Narcissus was right about the curse, if any transformer looked upon him with as much desire as he held for himself, then there was very little that was going to distract the Seekers from their current obsession.

"I can't believe we never noticed before how handsome you are," Skywarp murmured.

"Much more handsome than any other Autobot," Thundercracker agreed.

"We should have taken you a long time ago," Starscream concluded.

As much as he wanted to agree with the first two statements, he raged against the third. Sickness crawled through him as he felt their hands on him acutely. Their sharp claws tracing his body. Caressing sensitive neural wires. Slowly, they started to move him. The world shifted as he went from a vertical standing position to horizontal. Not that he went willingly. He fought with every ounce of volatile strength he had, but three Seekers were enough to keep him immobilized. He felt the dirt, rough like sandpaper, against his back as his arms and legs were spread.

Forced to do something he hated, he swallowed his pride like a bad medicine. "Help! Anyone, help me! _Help!_"

Skywarp wrinkled his olfactory sensor. "The only thing you should be screaming is our names."

"Frag you!" Sunstreaker spat, jerking forward hard enough to loosen his bonds and headbutt the Seeker.

Skywarp reared back with a howl.

"He's a live one," Thundercracker intoned admiringly as he swung over Sunstreaker's head to pull both the Autobot's arms above his head.

"I like it when they fight back," Starscream said, staring up the length of Sunstreaker's body with a dangerous, hungry look in his optics. Of the three of them, he was the worst. His touch was the roughest, his claws scraping sensitive places to the point of pain. He was the boldest, planted firmly between Sunstreaker's open legs. He also appeared the most aroused, becoming more so as Sunstreaker continued to struggle.

Not even a joor before did Sunstreaker believe in Primus, but right now he was ready to start praying for a miracle.

Somewhere in the echoes of the dark, damp cave, he could have sworn he heard Narcissus laughing.

"_Please help!" _

Starscream stretched over him, firmly wedged between his legs, his hands roaming roughly up the contours of his frame.

"_HELP!"_

Above the sounds of laughter and struggle, the sound of a weapon discharging could scarcely be heard. Starscream's optics suddenly shot wide, his mouthplates dropping open. A long, audio-shattering screech came out as he reared up. His hands scrambled at his back, trying desperately to reach the fire that ate into his metal and burned deep into his neural circuits. As he spun away, Sunstreaker got a good look at the familiar pattern of chemical burns.

More weapons' discharge sounded, this time heralding an attack on Thundercracker. He got the acid pellets in the back of the head. His armour hissed and crackled in reaction to the powerful chemical agents. His screams with downright chilling.

A dark silhouette appeared in the mouth of the cave, a weapon drawn and aimed. Skywarp snarled viciously, but didn't move forward. Prowl came into focus as he drew near. While the violet Seeker could not be called the smartest of his trine, he had already had his fair share of chemical warfare from tangling with the tactician hours before.

"Unless you all wish to find out what it is like to have your wings melted off, I suggest you leave," Prowl ordered darkly. When no one moved as quickly as he wished, he fired two warning shots into the ground. _"Now!"_

With lingering glances hungrily taking in their fill of Sunstreaker's sprawled form, the three Seekers finally relented. They were in no condition to fight the tactician, especially not when he kept firing acid pellets at them like they were party favours. Sounds of transformation filled the cave, and then the Decepticons powered up their thrusters and were gone into the sky. For several long moments, Prowl stayed at the mouth of the cave. He watched until the last untrustworthy jet was completely out of sight.

Sunstreaker sighed expansively, glad to trade three evils for one lesser one. He pushed himself into a sitting position, only to come up short when the barrel of a gun came in level with his line of sight. His optics travelled the length of the barrel until he was able to look into the severe gaze of the icy mech wielding the weapon.

"Don't. Move."


	6. Chapter 6

Question: When is logic sexy? Answer: When Prowl is using it.

**Chapter 6**

Sunstreaker remained where he was on the floor, halfway between rising and reclining. He didn't dare move when the barrel of a gun was focused a bare inch away from his faceplate. Not just any gun, but one that shot acid pellets instead of plasma. He knew Prowl preferred to use weaponized acid over plasma because it was more likely to incapacitate an enemy rather than kill them, giving the Autobots the chance to interrogate the subdued opponent at a later date. Acid could do a lot of damage to Sunstreaker's faceplate, but it wouldn't kill him.

He didn't think he could live with himself if his faceplate was burned off.

His optics darted up to see Prowl's expression, but it was impossible to discern any intention within the reflective lenses. Was the tactician so wrapped up in the curse that he was going to pull the ultimate cliche? If he couldn't have Sunstreaker, no one would? Because in the face of death, Sunstreaker was actually quite willing to rescind his earlier opinions of the tactician. Prowl was not looking so bad anymore. Nope, he looked tolerable. Almost decent. And quite frankly, Sunstreaker was willing to do what it took to _not _have his faceplate melted off.

"P-prowl?"

Pale optics shuttered tight, as if the mere sound of the golden bot's voice was agony. Prowl's free hand clenched into a tight fist, the tips of his fingers digging so deeply into the palm that gouges appeared in the metal. A look of intense concentration passed over the mech's faceplate, and then slowly, fraction by fraction, the plainness that Sunstreaker had come to relate to Prowl returned. His fist relaxed. His faceplate eased from its furrowed expression.

"The effect is stronger this time," the bot murmured, more to himself than to Sunstreaker.

Taking a risk, Sunstreaker attempted to move into a more comfortable position. The moment he started shifting, the barrel of the gun was shoved closer to his faceplate.

"I ordered you to not move," Prowl growled darkly.

Sunstreaker hardly dared to nod, fearing that doing so would be enough to set off Prowl's itchy trigger finger, which was sitting directly over the too-sensitive trigger.

Keeping his gun trained directly on the golden bot, Prowl backed up one step, and then another. He was as far away as he could possibly get without leaving the cave completely. Over his shoulder, the sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached. The effect of Prowl's stark black and white paint was intensified as the black parts of him faded into the gloom while his white armour seemed to float in the shade. His pale optics were eerie as the shone near-white, focused directly on Sunstreaker.

"If I speak... will you shoot me?" Sunstreaker asked cautiously.

"You just spoke and I didn't shoot you," Prowl pointed out flatly.

"Okay, that's a good start," Sunstreaker replied. Once again he tried to shift into a comfortable position, only to be waylaid by a gun. Shoring up a little indignation, he shot Prowl a pointed look. "Can I sit up or what?"

There was a long pause as the tactician seemed to weigh every possible outcome of allowing Sunstreaker the dignity of sitting up. In the end, he relented reluctantly. The muzzle of the gun dropped a fraction. "You may sit up, but do not move any farther from the spot. If you do, I will shoot."

"Don't worry, I got no intention of being shot," Sunstreaker grumbled, finally able to get up off his back. Finally able to sit, he could see the damages wrought by the Seekers' amorous attentions. Scratches and flaked off paint. Dirt smeared into his beautiful paint. His hands instantly started twitching as the urge hit him to clean himself again. He needed to look perfect. When he made a move for his subspace pocket, Prowl's finger twitched, effectively halting all activity on Sunstreaker's part.

"I have no idea what is going on, and until I do have a comprehensive understanding of the situation, you will not be doing anything I deem unreasonable," Prowl ordered.

"Cleaning is unreasonable?" Sunstreaker asked in irritation.

"At the moment? _Yes,_" Prowl growled.

Not wanting to take any chances, Sunstreaker let his hand fall away from his subspace pocket. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around his shins. Without the constant fear of someone coming on to him, he suddenly discovered how tired he was. Running for his life certainly took it out of him. But then the oddness of his current situation struck him. Prowl was here, a fellow Cybertronian, but he didn't appear overcome with lust. Instead of coming closer, he was keeping his distance. His optics weren't glued to Sunstreaker's frame, but looking everywhere else instead. If it weren't for the death grip he had on his gun, the Datsun would have looked as indifferent as he had that morning.

"Please stop staring at me," Prowl requested tightly.

Sunstreaker startled in surprise, immediately directing his gaze elsewhere. "Sorry. I was just wondering why you're acting so... _normally_."

"It is not easy," Prowl admitted. "Your appearance or behaviour has not changed for as long as I have known you, so there is no reason for my regard of you to change. Inexplicably, it has changed within the last few hours. There is no logical reason for my uncontrollable attraction to you. Until I know exactly what is going on, I will resist." He closed his optics tight. "I do not know how long my self-control will last, though."

"Oh." Sunstreaker looked away, pressing his mouthplates together into a thin line. Great, so he was sharing a cave with a ticking time bomb. At any moment, Prowl could suddenly forget about his precious logic in order to go after Sunstreaker like a rabid animal. That was great. Really.

It was quiet between the Autobots for a short time, and then Prowl suddenly asked: "What did you do to yourself?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" Sunstreaker asked mulishly.

Prowl still would not look directly at him, but narrowed his gaze on the rock wall he was staring at. "I highly doubt this is a Decepticon plot, given how the Seekers reacted so violently toward you. If this was their fault, they would have found some way to be immune. I would not lay this condition at the feet of any Autobot on our team either. That leaves you as the responsible one for whatever you have done."

"Well, it wasn't _my_ fault," Sunstreaker retorted.

"Then explain the situation so I do know whose fault this is," Prowl ordered acidly.

It was very hard not to flinch under a tone like that. Sunstreaker tried valiantly, but in the end he was forced to turn his faceplate away. "I don't even think you'd believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"I'm cursed."

There was disbelieving silence, and then, "I beg your pardon?"

"Cursed. You know- the supernatural kind. Like those old movies Sideswipe sometimes watches- Curse of the Mummy, Curse of the Zombie King, Curse of the Swamp Thing, Curse of the Werewolf..."

"I get the point."

Sunstreaker huffed quietly. "Yeah, well, mine is Curse of the Good Looking."

"What a horrible sounding curse."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping," Sunstreaker grouched. "I'm being punished for being better looking than a god. He couldn't take a little critique and _BANG_ he cursed me."

"I doubt it was that simple," Prowl said dryly.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics. "You're not even going to question my sanity over the 'god' part?"

"Your sanity has always been in question," Prowl intoned. "However, we are on a different planet than our own and are bound to encounter different species with different abilities. What is considered a 'god' in one place may simply be an advanced alien species. You may have simply encountered an alien with a unique telepathic manipulation ability able to affect our inorganic physiology."

"Yeah..." Sunstreaker doubted what he had encountered were _aliens _in the strictest sense, but he wasn't willing to get into a spat with Prowl about the fine line between what was extraterrestrial and what was supernatural. Truthfully, Sunstreaker was still adjusting his own world to accept that annoying supernatural beings ran around cursing good bots for no good reason. As of this moment, Prowl was his only sort-of ally and he knew he couldn't afford to lose that.

"Now, explain what this so-called 'curse' is supposed to be about," Prowl prompted.

"Bots takes one look at me and... I don't know. They're supposed to see me as I see myself, I guess," Sunstreaker said, then shuddered. "I just wanted a little more appreciation for my looks, you know? All this effort and it never seems like anyone realizes that I am this good looking. I didn't think it would be a bad thing to have a little more recognition..."

"I imagine the Seekers were a rude awakening for you," Prowl said... and was that a little bit of cruel humour in his tone?

Sunstreaker glared.

The glare was ignored. "What you say does make sense, in a fashion. It could be some sort of hypnotic suggestion implanted into our minds by this 'god' you insulted. What did you say his name was?"

"Narcissus."

A brief huff of dry laughter escaped Prowl. "Greek myth depicts Narcissus the most beautiful mortal in the world; one day, he saw his reflection in a pool of water and fell in love with himself. He died that way, wanting only his reflection. He was made into a god for some reason- perhaps because the ancient Greeks valued physical perfect so highly."

Sunstreaker arched both optic ridges. "You know Greek myth?"

"Our mission required us to come to Greece. It seemed only logical to familiarize myself with the different aspects of the country- history, geography, political standings. Whatever I deemed possibly important," Prowl said with a light shrug. "It was a whim to download ancient myths, but it turns out to be fortuitous for the both of us."

"Looks that way, yeah..." Sunstreaker sighed.

"Of all the so-called gods for you to bother, it just happened to be Narcissus. It seems like a fitting fate for you," Prowl observed. "I understand now how you could insult someone so easily by acting as yourself."

Sunstreaker scowled. "I'm so glad you could gain a deeper understanding of my torment."

"It's better than being ignorant of it," Prowl countered curtly. "This 'curse', as you call it, makes a lot more sense as well. Your physical appearance has not changed in the least, and yet the regard of those who see you has obviously changed. An outside force was obviously involved." He shook his head. "If this is how you see yourself, then I have greatly miscalculated your love for yourself."

"Not all of us can be comfortable looking as plain as dirt," Sunstreaker snapped.

Prowl made the mistake of swinging around send the golden mech a withering glare. The moment they made optic contact, he jerked forward, his whole frame tensing. Sunstreaker sensed the sudden danger and started to reel backwards. It took several moments of fighting with himself before Prowl could force himself to look away.

An extremely uncomfortable silence filled the cave for nearly longer than what Sunstreaker could handle. "Prowl..."

Prowl revved deeply, his voice strained when he finally spoke. "It is not that I don't care for my looks, Sunstreaker. There are simply more important things in the world than my appearance."

Sunstreaker didn't feel comfortable enough to give a good retort. He ducked his head and kept his optics on the ground.

Prowl suddenly pushed to his feet, brushing away debris from his backside. "Morning has nearly fully risen. The nearest human establishment is approximately an hour from here. I am going to drive there."

Sunstreaker scrambled to his feet, banging his head against the rock. Clutching his new dent, he squinted at the tactician's silhouette through the bright light streaming in through the mouth of the cave, "You're leaving me?"

"Only for a short time. I will be back," Prowl assured, still not looking directly at him. "We will have to work together in order to figure out a way to negate this curse."

"You're helping me, then?" Sunstreaker wondered hopefully.

"It is the only logical course of action," Prowl replied evenly. "You are too valuable a warrior to the Autobots to dismiss completely. If you were to stay the way you are when we return to the _Ark_, the distraction you will cause will be detrimental. The only option we have is to end the curse before we rejoin with the rest of the Autobots."

"Sounds reasonable," Sunstreaker murmured. He internally withered as he thought about showing up at the Ark with the curse still on him. The day he just had would be nothing in comparison to an ship full of hungry Autobots lusting after him. They'd rip him apart.

"Good. Stay where you are until I return. Try not to leave the cave in case the others spot you," Prowl warned. "I encountered Sideswipe, Jazz, and Ratchet earlier and they were quite intent on finding you."

Sunstreaker pressed deeper into the cave. "I won't go anywhere."

"We'll figure this out, Sunstreaker. I promise." Prowl turned his back on the cave, turning his face up to the sun as he made his way down the incline. In that moment, he did not look so plain as he normally did. He looked... _stunning_.


End file.
